and I had a feeling I might not stop for a long, long time.
“Oh, my God,” she murmured. “Oh, my God, Taylor, I’m so sorry. That’s
just…” Her voice trailed off, as though words wouldn’t be able to describe it.
We walked on, me fighting back tears, and then I felt Lucy’s fingers brush
mine as she took my hand and held it firmly in hers.
As she did this, I could feel the first hot tear hit my cheek, and then my
chin was trembling, out of control again. As I looked out at the water, I
realized there was nowhere to go, nowhere left to run. And I just had to stay
here, facing this terrible truth. I felt, as more tears fell, just how tired I was, a
tiredness that had nothing to do with the hour. I was tired of running from
this, tired of not telling people, tired of not talking about it, tired of
pretending that things were okay when they had never, ever been less okay. I
attempted to pull my hand away, but Lucy just held it, squeezing mine hard,
all the way to the end of the dock. And there was something about it—maybe
the fact that she was letting me know, physically, that she was there, that she
wasn’t going anywhere—that made me feel like I could finally just let myself
cry.
When I’d pulled myself together a bit, Lucy headed back to get her kayak,
dragging it across the dock. She took out the paddle and flashlight and placed
the kayak on the edge of the dock. “Can I do anything?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No,” I said, running my hand across my face. “Thanks,
though.”
Lucy didn’t take the easy out, though, continuing to look at me intently.
“Will you let me know if there is anything I can do?” she asked. When I
nodded, she pressed, “Promise?”
“Promise,” I said. She dropped the kayak in the water and climbed in, and I
handed her down the paddle and flashlight.
“Hey,” she said, looking up at me in the moonlight as she bobbed below
the dock, “do you remember any of those codes we used to have?”
I felt myself smile as I thought back to all those messages we had figured
out how to send each other across the water. “I think so,” I said.
“Good,” Lucy said, using the paddle to push off the dock and propel
herself forward with swift, practiced strokes, the beam of her flashlight
bobbing on the water. “Just stay out here for a minute, okay?”
“Okay,” I called back. She waved the paddle at me, and I sat down on the
dock and watched her progress, my eyes straying only occasionally to the
carving at the end of it, the inscription that joined my name with Henry’s.